Love Is
by AnthroQueen
Summary: ... not easily defined, especially in the Cavanaugh household. One-shot sequel to "I'll set the table, you can make the fire."


**Hey howdy hey! It's been a while, no? Sorry I've been so MIA- life happened, essentially. So I started my Disney College Program, which included moving from New York to Florida and then adjusting to life down here and starting my job- I work at Hollywood Studios at Toy Story Midway Mania, if you ever want to visit. ;) But yeah. Life's been crazy. But I got a free moment and wrote this story because it's been bouncing around my brain for a while now.**

**This is a sort-of sequel to "I'll set the table, you can make the fire," and I say sort-of only because I'm using the same family set-up, but not really running along the same themes. Did that make sense? Sorry. My brain's a bit fried. This is a one-shot; I won't be updating. This is kind of like the little end cap on "table," because I've been wanting to write a sequel for a while (and I've been asked to write one a bunch of times too), so hopefully it makes people happy. I'm pretty pleased with it. For the most part. :P  
**

**Thanks for reading and reviewing, if you do. I love all of you a super lot. I actually have another one-shot idea in mind, so keep a look out for me. I don't know when it'll come out because I work all the time and when I don't, I'm at the parks with friends and roommates (I mean, wouldn't you be? We get in for free, so...). But thanks for your patience. You're all wonderful little flower blossoms and I hope you enjoy this. :D**

* * *

Love Is…

"Can you keep a secret?"

"Duh."

"You can't tell anyone. Especially Dad."

"I _won't!_"

Toby Cavanaugh halts his steps and frowns at the whispered conversation emanating from the kitchen. He's covered head to toe in sawdust, he's torn a hole through his favorite pair of jeans and his toolbox is weighing down his sore limbs, but this has completely stopped him in his tracks. The last thing he wants to deal with after the longest week of his life is that one word- secret. Secrets lead to lies, stories and substitutions for what's really going on. It transports him immediately back to a time he'd care not to remember; one with false accusations and missed opportunities and life-threatening situations. There had been a time, long ago, when life hadn't been as simplistic and serene as it is now, and it's easy to forget that once, he'd had no one. Once, he'd been tortured and lonely and wondered if things would get better. All it takes is the simplest of words to bring him back.

Slowly, Toby lowers his toolbox onto the floor by the garage door and eases his way deeper into the house. The two girls are still speaking in hushed tones, as if they already know someone's listening in, and Toby crosses the hallway and comes to stand right in the arch that leads to the kitchen. His daughters are perched at the marble countertop, their backs to him and heads bent close in an effort to block out all sound of their conversation. Backpacks, shoes and coats are all but forgotten on the floor below them and the teakettle is just beginning to boil on the stove in the corner. The older of the two is speaking with grand gestures of the hand, clearly getting into her storytelling, while the younger listens in, wide-eyed, and nodding excitedly.

A moment later, the teakettle croons into the afternoon air and as the older girl hops off the stool to answer its call, she nearly jumps out of her skin. "Dad! I didn't know you were home."

"Surprise," Toby replies amusedly. "I didn't know you liked tea."

She shakes her head. "It's for hot chocolate. My hands went numb walking back from the bus stop! If only I had my own car…"

"If only you had a job to buy that car," Toby finishes for her. "And a license to drive one."

"Three more weeks, Dad," She frowns. "It's not that far away."

Toby shakes his head as she leaves the room in search of one of her many textbooks. In all honesty, he can't figure out how Grace Marion Cavanaugh, that tiny little baby he'd once held and rocked to sleep and sung to, is somehow sixteen years old and three weeks away from securing her driver's license. At sixteen, she now looks more like Spencer than she ever has and easily is the one who looks the least like him; the blue eyes are the only things that connect the two. He can't say he's surprised; she's always been his mini-Spencer and with her remarkable wit, drive and ambition, the comparison has only intensified with time. He watches her go, bounding up the stairs with her ponytail swishing behind her, and turns back towards the kitchen.

His younger daughter is still perched at the counter, her legs swinging, as she contemplates telling her father what she knows and keeping a promise to her sister. She looks utterly torn and Toby sympathizes with her for a moment, because he certainly knows how she feels. Humble and quiet, ten-year-old Lillian Rose is known for keeping out of everyone's way. While the other two children will run amok, wreaking havoc whether intentionally or unintentionally, Lillian is much more of a peacemaker. Toby remembers fondly the joy of having a baby as easy as Lillian had been; a complete one-eighty to the colicky, diaper rash-ridden, ear infection-prone infant Grace had been. All Lillian ever wanted was to be held and she was content, which was convenient considering the time she started desiring the extra cuddles was around the time when Grace decided she didn't want them anymore.

"Hi Lilly," Toby greets her cordially. "How was your day?"

Lilly shrugs. "Good, I guess."

"Any homework for the weekend?"

"Just my science project on body," Lilly says. "I got the heart. I wanted the brain, but Olivia got that, so I guess the heart's good too."

Toby nods. "The heart's very important, Lil. Couldn't do much without it."

She twists a strand of chestnut brown hair around her index finger, glancing away as Toby then asks, "What were you and Grace talking about?"

Lilly appears as though she's been physically pained. "Dad, I can't. I promised."

"Oh, I see. So it's a secret, huh?" He implores and she nods furiously, remaining mum. "I never really liked secrets. Because if you're keeping something from someone, that means you're not telling them the whole truth. And if you're not telling them the truth, that means you're…"

"Lying," Lilly fills in, her voice small.

"And what have your mother and I told you about lying?"

"Not to," She frowns. "And that it's bad."

"Exactly," Toby confirms. "So out with it, Lilly. What's going on?"

"Don't tell her I told you," Lilly warns, her face serious. "But I think Grace has a boyfriend."

Whatever he's expecting to hear, it certainly isn't that. "A boyfriend?"

"She's going out tomorrow with him," Lilly says. "For pizza and bowling, I think. That's what she told me."

As Lilly settles back in her chair, pulling out pencils and notebooks to begin her homework, Toby contemplates the information he's been presented with in the silence that follows. It isn't uncommon for sixteen-year-old girls to have boyfriends, of course, but some naïve part of him had believed his daughter would never be one of them. Perhaps he's living in the past, perhaps he's reluctant to let go, or maybe he's just too damn stubborn (it's probably the latter; Spencer tells him all the time). But when he looks at Grace, he sees the cowering three-year-old plagued by nightmares, the five-year-old who'd punched a fellow classmate for upsetting her best friend, the pre-teen who'd been afraid to start middle school because she didn't want to leave her sister behind. He looks at Grace and sees her just fine for who she is, but he also sees who she was- a little girl. _His_ little girl.

She comes down the stairs a bit more graceful than before, clutching a thick AP History textbook and already complaining, "I bet I'm going to have to re-boil that water because my hot chocolate won't be so hot, will it?"

But one look at her father and she _knows_. Her eyes grow dark and angry and she slams the textbook onto the kitchen counter, whirling around on her sister. "You told him? You said you could keep a secret, Lilly!"

"I can!" Lilly insists, panicking. "I'm sorry! I didn't want to lie!"

"Grace, leave her alone," Toby scolds. "It's fine."

"It's _not_ fine!" Grace shrieks. "How can I tell you guys _anything_ if I can't even trust my own sister with a secret?"

"You can!" Lilly pleads. "You can tell me stuff!"

"Not if you're going to repeat everything I say to everyone you know!" Grace shakes her head. "God, can't I just have my own life without everyone always butting into it?"

Just as Toby's about to tell her to cut the drama, the front door bursts open and their youngest child tumbles through, tracking snow through the house and knocking things over in his path like the tornado that he is. Their little eight-year-old had been a welcomed change from all things girly but somehow, from the very first week he'd been home, Toby and Spencer had known he was to be their last child. It isn't as though he's destructive on purpose, but he's a mischievous little troublemaker- something they truly had no experience with. Spencer's trailing in behind him, her mind clearly elsewhere, a briefcase tucked beneath her arm as she grimaces at the mess her son's left behind. The young boy doesn't even notice the chaos he's walked into and instead immediately launches into a nonstop commentary about his day.

"Dad, I have to do this stupid project on love," He grumbles. "I don't know what I'm gonna write about. Also I have a cavity. So I'm not gonna write about the dentist."

"You know what you should write about, Henry?" Grace turns to him. "Write about how love doesn't mean anything and you can't trust _anyone!_"

Henry shrugs and hops onto the unoccupied stool beside Lilly. "Okay."

"Whoa, what is going on?" Spencer cuts in. "Why are you so angry?"

"Don't ask me," Grace frowns. "Lilly will tell you all about it."

She storms up the stairs, her bedroom door slamming behind her, and when Spencer turns to her younger daughter, Lilly wails, "I didn't do anything!"

"No one said you did," Spencer tells her softly. "What's going on, Lil?"

"Grace is so mad at me," Lilly trembles, tears spilling down her cheeks. "She's never going to talk to me again!"

Clutching her school supplies, she, too, heads up the stairs and there's another slam of a bedroom door before the house falls into silence. After a beat, Spencer's still out of the loop and asks her husband, "Would you care to enlighten me on what I missed out on?"

"World War three," Toby sighs and addresses Henry, "Tell me about your love project, bud."

"Monday's Valentine's Day," Henry frowns. "So Mrs. Healy is making us write an essay on what we think love is. It's going to be so hard."

Toby chuckles a bit. "Why? You know what love is."

"Yeah, it's stupid," Henry nods. "That's why it's gonna be hard, because I don't think I can say that word."

"I'm sorry, can we get back to the battle I walked in on?" Spencer probes. "And more importantly why it was even happening in the first place?"

"I guess it was kind of my fault," Toby informs her. "I got home and Grace was making Lilly promise not to tell me something. When she left the room, I asked Lilly what it was and… Well apparently, Grace has a date tomorrow night and she really, really didn't want us to find out about it."

"A date?" Spencer's eyes widen. "With who?"

"I didn't get the details," Toby shakes his head. "But Lilly says this guy's her boyfriend."

"Grace has a boyfriend?" Henry perks up, a devious smile adorning his face. "Interesting."

Spencer smirks, laying a hand on Toby's arm in passing. "I'll run damage control."

Toby watches her go; never a dull moment in their house, that's for sure. After a moment, he catches Henry scribbling something onto a piece of loose-leaf paper and asks, "What are you doing?"

"Taking notes," Henry says simply.

Toby bends over his son's homework, where Henry's written the header '_Love is…_' Underneath, he's made a list in his chicken scratch writing- _Stupid. Confusing. Weird._

He can tell this essay is off to a spectacular start.

* * *

"I don't see why you're making such a big deal out of this."

She switches off the light and they're bathed in darkness just as Toby's eyes widen at her statement. It's late, way after midnight, and the dust has long since settled on the battlefields, but now he's wide-awake again. He reaches over to his own bedside and turns the light on once more. "I don't see how you're _not_ making a big deal out of this! Grace is our little girl and she's got a date tomorrow night!"

"That's the thing, though," Spencer points out. "She's not a little girl anymore."

Toby frowns and Spencer, again, turns out the light. "Why do you always have to be right?"

"One of my many talents," She replies. "I'm sorry. But it was bound to happen eventually."

"And you were prepared?"

"No one's ever prepared," Spencer corrects, settling into bed. "But I was determined not to be like my parents. I think I handled it well."

He shakes his head. "You could never be like your parents. You're far too selfless for that."

"You know what I mean," Spencer eyes him. "I didn't want to judge this kid before I met him. He might be great."

"He might not be," Toby points out. "What if he's rude and inconsiderate? What if he hurts her?"

"Trust me, I don't want that to happen either," She says. "But we have to let her experience it for herself, you know? And we can't start off on the wrong foot with this kid either, or else…"

"Or else what?"

"Or else we _are _going to be as bad as my parents," Spencer frowns. "You remember what they thought of you at first, don't you?"

"How could I forget?" Toby deadpans. "And I won't forget how angry you were with them because of it, and I don't want Grace to hate us. But I also know me and I would never hurt you… intentionally. We don't know this kid."

"And we never will if you scare him off," Spencer counters and Toby has to give her that one.

He heaves a sigh. "Fine. She can go on this date."

Spencer smirks, snuggling into his side. "You don't have to like it."

"Good, because I don't."

"Face it, Tobes. Our babies aren't babies anymore."

"Then let's have another."

She laughs and asks, "What, because that's your answer to all this? Look, I'd be totally with you if we didn't have three already and if we weren't in our forties. And if it didn't hurt so much."

"Come on, you took that pain like a champ," Toby teases, rubbing her back. "And don't say we're in our forties. That's too depressing for words."

"Better than the alternative," Spencer points out. "You promised me forever and part of that forever means getting old."

He shrugs. "As long as I'm with you, it won't be so bad."

It doesn't matter that they've been married nearly twenty years and together even longer; Toby is still constantly saying things that make Spencer's heart want to leap from the confines of her chest. They've gotten through life's many struggles together and somehow it's only made them stronger. She drifts off to sleep with their many memories still fresh in her mind and awakens Saturday morning with a smile on her face, despite the craziness going on their household. Half the day wears on before she even remembers her oldest daughter is preparing for her very first date and she can remember hers, clear to this very day. It hadn't been special (it hadn't been with _Toby_) but it's a milestone and truthfully, she's equally as excited and apprehensive for her daughter's sake as she had been all those years ago.

Around lunchtime, Spencer's layering turkey and cheese on whole wheat bread for Henry when Grace enters the house, a bundle of mail under her arm. "You're not going to _believe_ what we just got."

"A robot?" Henry proposes hopefully. "No, a coupon for the toy store. Wait, free cookies for a year?"

"No," Grace shakes her head, bopping him with a rolled up magazine. "An invitation to Vivian's graduation party."

"Already?" Spencer asks, motioning for the envelope and tearing it open to see for herself. "_Wren and Melissa Kingston would like to formally announce the high school graduation of their daughter, Vivian Elise, on the upcoming twenty-fourth of June. We invite you to celebrate this marvelous accomplishment with all of us at the Edison Club on the thirtieth of June as we prepare to send her off into the world on her next endeavor_."

"Could they be any more pretentious?" Grace wonders, stealing a carrot stick from her brother's plate. "She didn't even graduate yet!"

"It's definitely a little premature," Spencer agrees and bites her tongue in order not to say anything _too_ bad about her sister. "But that's your Aunt Melissa, for you."

"Why doesn't Vivian have any brothers or sisters?" Henry wonders, side-eyeing Grace as she steals another carrot. "Doesn't she get lonely?"

"No, because she's perfect," Grace frowns bitterly. "They had one perfect child and they didn't need any others."

"Grace Marion," Spencer scolds. "Knock it off."

"I'm sorry, but it's true," Grace defends herself. "She got all fives on her AP exams _and_ she's going to Brown! How am I supposed to compete with that?"

"You don't have to compete with that," Spencer tells her. "Wherever you want to go to college is where you'll go. Don't worry about Vivian; worry about _you_."

"I _want_ to go to Georgetown, but that's not going to be good enough for Grandpa!" Grace argues. "He already told me it's worth nothing if it's not an Ivy."

"He said that?" Spencer implores. It's definitely like her father to have that kind of attitude, but she'd never expect him to be so candid with her children.

Grace sighs. "Well maybe not in those words, but that's what he meant."

"Look, you just focus on this year first, okay?" Spencer proposes. "You're only a sophomore; you've got plenty of time."

Lilly enters the room, then, three pairs of shoes in her hands, and thrusts a strappy silver pair out towards her sister. "These ones will go with your outfit the best, I think."

"That's what I was thinking, too," Grace nods. "Thanks, Lil. You're the best."

A warm smile grows on her face and Spencer's glad to see the storm clouds have passed. She says, "I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but the snow's three feet high. You're going to get frostbite wearing those shoes, Grace."

"One time," Henry chimes in. "I was watching this movie and the guy got frostbite on his feet and they turned black and he had to chop them off."

"Ew! Henry!" Grace shrieks. "Mom, it's not like I'm going to be _walking_ in the snow. We're driving and then we'll be inside."

"And you're getting this dressed up for pizza and bowling?" Spencer asks, a touch bemused.

"I'm not dressing up for bowling," Grace says, her face growing pink. "I'm dressing up for Liam."

"Why?" Henry wonders and Lilly cups a hand around his ear, whispering the truth. He bursts into a fit of laughter. "Ew! Grace, you're in love?"

Grace flushes scarlet and Spencer smiles a bit. "Love? Already?"

"What do you mean?" Grace asks defensively. "You were in love when you were sixteen!"

"You were?" Henry wonders. "With who? Who was your boyfriend?"

"Don't get too excited," Grace tells him. "It's just Dad."

"Grace!"

"What? I've heard this story a thousand times," Grace drones. "You hated each other first and then you became friends and then you fell in love. The end."

Lilly's eyes are wide. "You hated Dad?"

"Why?" Henry wonders, his loose-leaf piece of paper and pencil coming into play once more. "Was he mean to you?"

"No. Listen, it's a very long story," Spencer tells them. "Parts of it aren't going to make a whole lot of sense. But… Well, love doesn't make sense."

"Tell us!" Henry urges and Lilly nods eagerly in agreement.

"A lot of bad stuff was happening back then," Spencer begins, as good a start as any. "People were going missing, people were dying… It was scary. But the thing that really started it all was when a friend of mine disappeared. Aria, Hanna, Emily and I used to hang out all the time with another girl named Alison."

"Alison was really mean," Grace fills in. "Like she used to make fun of Mom and Aria, Hanna and Emily and she'd make them do bad things and she was just like really awful."

"Why were you friends with her?" Lilly asks.

"I asked myself that all the time," Spencer replies. "And when she went missing, I wasn't really surprised. She'd done a lot of bad things to a lot of people and that's why it was so hard to figure out who had done this to her. But the person who wanted her gone was bothering us, too. When they thought Alison was dead, they started coming after us."

"Who was it?" Henry wonders.

Spencer shakes her head. "It doesn't matter now. That person is long gone. But one of the horrible things Alison did was turn me and my friends against your father. She saw something terrible happening to him and then she did something terrible and made him take the blame. She told us he was not someone we wanted to associate with and when she went missing… We thought for a moment that he was the one who did it."

"That's why you hated him?" Lilly questions.

"It was stupid," Spencer says. "Never judge someone before you get to know them- isn't that what I always tell you? He hated me too, I'm sure of it. He won't admit it, but… We made his life just awful; I can't imagine how he wouldn't."

"He got over it really fast," Grace grins. "Tell them about that!"

"Well, he needed a French tutor and I was in AP French," Spencer states. "We spent all afternoon talking and I apologized for being so wrong about him. And once I got to know him… Well, you know your father. There's not a violent bone in his body. There was no way he could be anywhere near as awful as Alison had always said he was. We became friends after that. We hung out, we tried to figure out who was messing with us… And then we sort of fell in love. It snuck up on us; I don't think either of us really expected it. But I never wanted to be with anyone else and neither did he, so… Here we are."

"Okay," Lilly grins warmly. "That's the most romantic thing I've ever heard in my entire life."

"Ew," Henry grimaces. "That's gross. Love is so weird."

"Wait, that's not the end!" Grace insists. "Tell them about the time you bought Dad his truck! That's my favorite story."

And so Spencer relays some of her most cherished memories with her children, the products of a love as grand as hers and Toby's. She doesn't hold back from telling them some of the not so happy ones, either, preferring to keep their time together as honest as she can. She wants them to know that as happy as she is, as happy as she always has been with him, love is difficult and painful and the most frustrating emotion she has ever felt in her life. She wants them to know how hard she's fought for (and with, to be honest) Toby and how much effort is needed to keep a relationship afloat. But she also wants them to know that it's worth it; each and every second of their twenty or so years together has been worth it. And glancing into the three faces she's created with him proves her point perfectly.

When the doorbell rings that evening and Grace comes flying down the stairs, yanking a coat over her outfit, Toby stops her at the bottom. Grace shoots an anxious look over his shoulder and says, "Dad, Liam's already here. I can't make him wait."

"I know. Your mother's talking to him now," Toby informs her. "He seems like a nice kid."

"He is," Grace insists. "That's what I tried to tell you!"

"I'll try to be more understanding next time, I promise," He says. "I want you to be able to tell me things, Gracie. You used to tell me everything."

"Dad," She squirms a little at her childhood nickname. "I have to go."

He nods and pulls her into a hug, which she returns almost instantly. "Have a good time, monkey. I love you."

"I love you, too," Grace says. "I'll tell you all about it when I get back. Promise."

She greets Liam cordially, bids farewell to her mother and siblings and then she's out the door. In minutes, the four remaining Cavanaughs are seated in the living room, the TV acting as mindless background noise for their family gathering. Lilly's thinking long and hard about her next move on the board game she and her mother have just begun and when she makes it, Spencer tallies the score and exclaims, "How are you beating me again?"

Lilly shrugs. "That's my second triple word score. Are you sure you know how to play?"

"Funny. Very funny," Spencer eyes her. "How did you get so good?"

"It's all about the letters!" Lilly insists, reaching into the drawstring bag. "I'm just very lucky, I guess."

"Uh-huh. _Sure_ you are," Spencer chuckles, turning to Toby and saying, "You've got some stiff competition, here."

Toby nods. "Who do you think taught her everything she knows?"

He glances around the room to find Henry scribbling furiously in the corner. "What are you doing over there, Hen?"

"Writing my essay," Henry tells him simply. "I think I finally know what love is."

"So you don't think it's stupid and confusing anymore?" Spencer wonders.

"Or weird?" Lilly chimes in.

"Yes I do," Henry nods. "That's what I'm writing."

* * *

"Thank you for meeting me on such short notice," Mrs. Healy greets Toby and Spencer as they sit before her desk in two armchairs. "I wasn't sure if I'd reach you. I know you're both very busy."

"Our kids come first," Spencer informs her. "Always have."

"I wish I could say that all parents have that attitude," Mrs. Healy smiles. "Believe me, it's much more of a pleasure to deal with the ones who do."

Toby nods. "I'll bet."

"I'm sure you're wondering why I called you in today," The teacher opens. "I was wondering if either of you got the chance to read Henry's essay on what love is before he turned it in."

"Oh no," Spencer emits.

"We didn't," Toby frowns. "What did he write?"

"Mr. and Mrs. Cavanaugh, the reason I assign this particular project is just to see what kinds of things the kids can come up with," Mrs. Healy explains. "Usually it's simple- love is nice, love is for Mom and Dad, love is what makes people happy. But that's not what your son wrote."

"And what _did_ he write?"

His teacher smiles and hands over the paper. "See for yourself."

_Love Is… by Henry Cavanaugh, age 8_

_Love is a weird word because it can mean a lot of things. I love my friends because they are fun to play with. We love to play on the playground at school. We love to run and pretend we are ninjas. I love my sisters too even when they are mean to me. I love Lilly because she helps me with my homework and she plays games with me even though she always wins. I love Grace because she tells me funny stories and because she eats my vegetables for me. I don't like carrots even though they are good for you. I love my Mom and Dad because they take care of me and because they are fun. When we go on trips we play games in the car and even if it takes a long time it doesn't feel like it because we're having fun._

_Love is confusing because you can not like someone and then like them later. My Mom and Dad did not like each other when they were kids. They hated each other. They thought things that were not real. But they were wrong. They were friends and then they were in love. It is cool because my Mom and Dad have always been with each other and with no one else. Lots of Moms and Dads say they are still in love but my Mom and Dad still are. I know this because they still hold hands when we go to the park and they still hug a lot and they kiss a lot too. It is kind of gross but not really because I know they love each other._

_Love is when you are with someone who makes you happy. I love my sisters and my Mom and Dad because they make me happy. I know my Dad makes my Mom happy because even when she has a bad day, when Dad comes home she still smiles. I know my Mom makes my Dad happy because she tells him things and he laughs a lot. I still think love is weird and kind of gross sometimes. But it is also really good because if you don't have love then you will be very sad. Love makes people happy and I know my Mom and Dad are very happy. They don't even have to say it. I just know_.

When they're finished reading, Toby's got look of unparalleled awe on his face and there are tears in Spencer's eyes. Mrs. Healy smiles warmly and says, "I just wanted to share that with you so you know how highly your son thinks of you both. You must have something very special."

"Yes," Toby agrees, slipping his hand into his wife's. "I think we really do."


End file.
